


no safety net underneath

by Chesra



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M, One Night Stands, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-17 13:49:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16975764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chesra/pseuds/Chesra
Summary: “I mean, I’ve been there,” James says abruptly.Lance’s head snaps up. “What?”“You know, the whole crushing on Keith thing? Honestly,” James chuckles, “we might as well start a club.”--or, James teaches Lance his methods of moving on.





	no safety net underneath

**Author's Note:**

> I have been working on this fic since the start of s7, which is ridiculous because I only got to power through this now because s8 drops in like, A DAY, and I needed to get this crack ship off my chest if only before everything else gets completely jossed. not that I particularly mind how things go one way or another, (look, I hold out for the chance of James and Lance EVEN interacting in s8, but you never know) but in case something happens, I just need this up here for posterity's sake. enjoy this crack ship treated rather legitimately, which is honestly just a big cover for lance/happiness. 100% unbetaed, will probs go over it soon for any mistakes
> 
> WOOHOO ONE MORE DAY I CAN'T WAIT TO DIE

_Ooh, you know I've been alone for quite a while, haven't I_

_I thought I knew it all_

_Found love but I was wrong_

_More times than enough_

_But since you came along_

_I'm thinking, baby_

\- “Falling All In You,” Shawn Mendes

 

\---

 

On the first week of Lance’s release from the hospital, his whole family throws parties. Every single day. They invite everyone - family they haven’t seen in years, neighbors, all of Lance’s old classmates, possibly some of Lance’s exes (not that his mama will ever know), the whole shebang.

 

It’s heartwarming but also slightly embarrassing, because Lance, for all that he loves his mom and dad and siblings and extended relatives, doesn’t particularly want to be on display _this_ much. Parades are cool. Songs are fantastic! Honor and tribute are all welcome. But this has all become a ridiculous extended meet-and-greet, and Lance just got out of the hospital, okay? He’s tired. He’d like some time to himself. He literally almost died. Did everyone forget that fact?

 

But - nope. “Don’t you have a nice girl to introduce to us yet?” Tia Imelda demands, in-between kisses. Lance resists the urge to sigh. War hero or not, he still has to deal with demanding relatives, especially the ones that keep asking him about his love life.

 

“There’s no one, Tia,” he replies, to everyone’s disbelieving expressions. And - all right, fine, he’s always talking a mile a minute about his crushes, but he’s never brought anyone home and introduced to them. That’s like, the ultimate commitment. There’s no way Lance is bringing someone unless he’s 1000% sure.

 

Veronica elbows him. “But what about the princess?” She asks, with a smirk. Lance has forgotten how much a little shit his sister is, possibly because of the threat of an impending alien invasion and the planet’s annihilation. But it all comes rushing back to him now; every single crush she’s ever teased him about.

 

“We’re just teammates,” he says hotly, uncomfortably aware that everyone, even his hard-of-hearing grandmother is at the edge of their seats, listening in.

 

“You can’t say you don’t like her!” His Tio Mario booms. “She’s gorgeous, that one.”

 

“Ye-es,” Lance says slowly. “She is the most beautiful girl I have ever met. No contest there. But there is Nothing Between Us.”

 

“Even when there were only seven of you up there in space?” Jack, his other cousin by Tia Melinda, looks skeptical. “You were out there for years.”

 

Lance throws his hands up. “We were fighting an intergalactic war!” he says. “There was no time for romance!”

 

“That definitely doesn’t sound like our Lance,” his grandmother says sadly. “Space has changed you, _mijo._ ”

 

Then everyone goes quiet, like they’re sad, and Lance can’t make his family upset! Veronica is shooting him a disappointed look, and honestly this is all her fault! Why did she have to bring this up while they were all eating! He can’t bring dishonor on the goddamn table with his mama’s empanadas.

 

“Okay maybe there was a little time for romance,” he says, and everyone cheers. Clearly they’re all such fucking gossips. “But not for me,” he adds. “Hunk was out there, getting all these alien babes.” He launches into the story of Hunk’s love triangle, but nobody seems much interested.

 

“But what about you, Tio Lance!” his cutest nephew gurgles, practically clinging to his arm.

 

Lance sighs dramatically. “It’s hard to be a real loverboy out there,” he says. “You can’t give your heart away to just one person.” Veronica snorts, not buying a word of it.

 

“What about your teammates though?” Jacinta, Jack’s twin, persists. “So not the princess - what about Katie Holt?”

 

“ _Pidge?_ ” Lance makes a face. “She’s like a little sister to me.”

 

Jack shrugs. “She’s cute.”

 

His cousin Lucia sighs. “Or Captain Shirogane,” she says, all dreamy. “He cuts such a figure, doesn’t he?”

 

His mama grins. “Don’t you still have all those posters of him up your wall?”

 

Oh my god. Lance is going to end up murdering his whole family.

 

“There was no romance within the ship!” Lance bellows, effectively pretending that Lotor never boarded the Castle of Lions and/or somehow seduced Allura within that short period of time. “We were all very focused on the war effort!”

 

No one believes him. Instead they continue on the gossip, each theory getting wilder as they imbibe more tequila. Lance might have accepted some rumors about him and Allura, thanks to Veronica, but him and Pidge? Or worse, him and _Keith_ ? He’s going to have to lose his favorite uncle. And he thought Tio Mario was to be _trusted_. He’d been the first Lance had told about his stupid guy crushes, after all.

 

It’s even worse when, on the third day, Hunk and Pidge show up. “Hey,” Hunk greets, still hobbling in his crutches. “Your mom sent us invites!”

 

Lance throws his arms around them. “Please tell me Allura and Keith are still in the hospital,” he says, voice muffled.

 

Pidge gives him a look. “Lance, that’s a terrible thing to say,” they say. “Keith’s getting discharged tomorrow, but Allura - it’s the Altean healing, I think. Coran says it’s better for her stay in and rest for a little while longer.”

 

“Good,” Lance says fervently. Then, “My family thinks I was sleeping with everyone during our time in space.”

 

Hunk chokes. “Wow,” he says, cautiously, “They really have a warped perspective of you.”

 

“I have been trying to tell them!” Lance hisses, as Pidge continues to scowl. “You think I would stand for this slander?”

 

“I dunno, Lance,” Pidge says, grinning. “It’s probably slander to us, but not to you.”

 

“Low blow, Pidge,” he grumbles. “Also seriously - avoid the twins, they really think we’re meant for each other. It’s creepy. They have cut out pictures of us.”

 

“They probably just missed you,” Hunk says. Hunk’s the one to most likely understand - he’s got a big family too, and they’re wild to know what’s been going on with his life up in space. Pidge’s parents are mostly up-to-date, and Keith’s family is also aliens. So, it’s really just him and Hunk dealing with this weirdness. They probably also have a bunch of outlandish theories on Hunk, especially now that they’ve met his alien girlfriend.

 

Lance frowns. “We’ve never met Shiro’s parents,” he says.

 

“That’s because he’s legally an adult,” Pidge says. “And they live all the way in Japan.” She pauses. “He’s been living alone since he moved to the Garrison to train as a pilot.”

 

“That’s - tragic,” is the only thing Lance manages to say. He winces. He’s never gotten a proper heart-to-heart with their fearless leader, and now that he’s even the Captain of Atlas, he’s been even busier.

 

“It’s okay,” Pidge says. “He’s practically an adopted sibling. My parents love him.”

 

They get no further when his siblings pounce on his friends, and Lance is unfortunately too late to save them. Hunk gives him the most traumatized look when they’re reunited two hours later, and even Pidge is unusually perturbed.

 

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but wow,” they say in a hush, once they’ve freed themselves from Marco’s company. “Your brother has a very active imagination.”

 

Lance flushes. He doesn’t particularly want to know. Sex fantasies should not be shared outside your immediate family. _Ever._

 

“I guess it’s hard for them to accept that being out there in space can be boring for days,” Hunk says, shuddering. “It’s either boring or life-threatening, no in-betweens.”

 

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell them!” Lance sighs. “And unlike your brother, we didn’t exactly have time to hook up with any hot alien rebels.”

 

“Not for the lack of trying,” Pidge says, grinning. “Admit it, Matt is just more attractive than you.”

 

Lance folds his arms. “We lost a few years in that wormhole,” he grumps. “I bet I could have gotten my interspecie romance after taking Lotor down.”

 

Hunk waggles his eyebrows, and Lance tackles him before he starts using his fake Allura voice. This causes an undesirable string reaction of screeching from one side of his family. Lance gives up on the idea of ever convincing his family that he’d only ever had platonic encounters with his teammates.

 

Midway the party Shiro also shows up, to his cousin Lucia’s delight. Veronica smirks at him throughout, and Lance wants to _die._ He makes sure the door to his upstairs room is locked.

 

(There is no fucking way he’s taking down the posters. Some of those are limited edition.)

 

“You seem like a wonderfully nice man!” His mama is saying, and Lance is just in time to ‘rescue’ him because, _wow, isn’t that time, I can hear Hunk calling us, okay bye!_

 

“Lance,” Shiro says, bemused as Lance makes the effort to drag his two-hundred-pound heavy of pure muscle across the room without much result.

 

“Shiro,” he says, almost pleading, “if you don’t want my mother to proposition you in my behalf, you will move.”

 

There’s a hint of a grin on Shiro’s lips, and for a second Lance is utterly bedazzled. It’s been too long since he’s seen Shiro actually happy. Considering all the things he has gone through in space - kidnapping, almost dying, clones, not to mention losing an arm - it’s amazing he can still power through all that. What a man. Lance still counts himself very, very lucky to have somehow met him.

 

He recovers and succeeds in bringing him out to the patio, where less of his nosy relatives are hanging out. There’s a bunch of people from the Garrison present, including the MFE pilots. One of them has draped themselves all over Veronica. Lance tries not to be jealous. How come his sister has more game than him? Life is _unfair_.

 

“Hey Lance,” she says, grinning. “Come on, help your sister out to win the betting pool.”

 

“Why, who’d you bet on?” Lance folds his arms. “Because if it’s Allura then you’re outta luck.”

 

“It’s true,” Hunk says, conspiratorially. Then, “Are we allowed to throw our hats in the ring?”

 

Lance just throws him the most betrayed look. _His own friend._

 

“It’s two hundred dollars and rising!” Hunk defends. “I need to buy my parents a gift, you know. A ‘sorry I disappeared for no good reason because my friends dragged me out into outer space’ present.” His expression indicates he still kind of blames Lance for that, and ok fine, he’d been the least likely to jump headfirst into the Voltron thing, but now he’s the heart of this shindig, and Lance can only be thankful Hunk has always followed him through hell and high water, no matter his misgivings. It’s the kind of trust he’ll be treasure for the rest of his days.

 

“My money’s on Hunk,” Pidge says after they’re done exchanging soulful expressions. Lance groans.

 

“Ha! Well, mine’s on Keith,” Hunk says, with a smirk.

 

“Not Allura?” Veronica looks just a little disappointed. “Damn, what happened there in space?”

 

Shiro sips on his pina colada, utterly unruffled. “What are we betting on?”  

 

“ _Nothing_ ,” Lance says desperately. “Seriously - this is. Uncomfortable. Cruel! I thought we were celebrating me surviving from space aliens!”

 

“This is a celebration,” his sister says. “You should have exchanged ‘we’re-lucky-to-be-alive’ makeouts with _someone_ by now.”

 

“All sci-fi movies lie,” Lance says glumly. He’s had about twenty close calls to his life and not one kiss to mark it better.

 

“How about that cute blonde alien,” says the MFE pilot who’s still all over Veronica. “She seems pretty fun.”

 

“A bold choice, Rizavi,” Veronica says, looking thoughtful. Then, “Lance always did like blondes.”

 

“And you did choose her when you all had to pilot alone with your lions,” Shiro points out, that little bitch. Everyone starts yelling after that, and Lance stomps away back to the house, eager to escape the madness. There’s an angry clenching in his chest that he wants to release, but - it’s not fair. They’re having fun, he knows, even if it’s at his expense, and fine, that happens way too often in his life, but he gets it. In a weird way people want to talk about him and to him, and romance is an aspect that everyone can get behind, regardless of weird cultural differences. He can talk about space mermaids until he’s blue in the face but they won’t get it, not easily. Everyone just wants to _understand,_ and cover that thin veneer of fear and panic with humor, as thousands of aliens knock on Earth’s door. It’s a strange time. They’d barely survived being obliterated, and the country has just been liberated from alien warlords. They all need a good laugh. Lance has never really minded encouraging it, but.

 

But this - the way he feels has never felt like something he wants to laugh at. Never mind that his crush on Allura has been hilariously broadcasted by his closest friends on a regular basis back at the Castle, or that he’s always been in awe of Shiro, or worse - the mingling jealousy and adoration that’s always made up his confusing interactions with Keith.

 

Because really - there’s nothing. Not between him and Allura, or Pidge, or Shiro, and _definitely_ not with Keith.

 

And Lance is just going to deal with that.

 

He folds in on himself on one of the couches by the living room, farther away from everyone chatting in the kitchen. It’s uncomfortably hot; the air conditioner’s broken down in this room, but Lance doesn’t mind. At least here he has his peace and quiet.

 

He has his face pressed against a pillow when he hears footsteps approaching. Lance barely lifts his head, weary, then surprised, as one of the MFE pilots settles on the couch across him.

 

“Hey,” he says.

 

“Hey,” Lance says warily. He remembers this guy from Garrison - they used to be in the same class with Keith, but for the life of him Lance can’t put a name to him. Crap.

 

The guy holds out a soda can, and Lance, after a second’s hesitation, takes it. It’s wonderfully chilled, and he sighs happily after his first sip.

 

“Thanks,” he says. “Uh -”

 

The guy quirks his lips up. “Griffin,” he says. “James Griffin.”

 

“Yeah!” Lance grins. “We were in class together, right?”

 

“Yes,” James says, relaxing. “Glad to know you still recall.”

 

“Hey, I remember everyone!” Lance protests. “Just have a little trouble with names.”

 

James is still smirking and Lance pouts. Why does no ever take what he says in face value? He’s not the type to lie, after all. In fact, Lance pretty much wears his whole heart out on his sleeve.

 

“Whatever,” he says. “Anyway, you were good out there.” Possibly better than good, because James is an actual trained pilot and not a wannabe like Lance. He’s definitely not as good as Keith, but in Lance’s opinion, no one is as good as Keith. Everyone else will have to settle for second place.

 

“Thanks,” James says, expression strangely pinched. “I wasn’t the one sacrificing my life to defeat the evil alien race, but - yeah.”

 

Lance blinks at that.

 

James sighs. “I’m saying, you’re a lot better than me, but thank you for the compliment,” he elaborates. Lance keeps staring, momentarily shocked into speechlessness.

 

“I’m not - really that good,” he says eventually. “Kind of just luckier than the most.”

 

“Is that what you tell yourself?” James’ eyebrow is raised high, in clear skepticism. Lance doesn’t know how to explain it. Up in space, everyone only knows him as a Voltron paladin. He can posture as much as he wants, and no one except the rest of his team will call him out in his bullshit. But here, he’s just another boy from Cuba, another Earthling just like the rest. Heck, there are dozens of better pilots in the Garrison who can probably take Red out of his hands.  

 

“Wow,” James eventually says, and Lance just flushes, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

 

“Guess I’m just not that great up close!” he says, jumping up. “Sorry to burst your bubble.” He makes to escape, again, but James reaches out and snags him by the wrist.

 

“Hey,” he says, tone infinitely gentle. He’d probably learned that straight from Captain Takashi Shirogane. “How about you and I go on flight simulations next week?”

 

Lance’s jaw drops, because no one ever asks him to flight simulations. Iverson used to beg him to get out every time he overstayed even for just a minute.

 

“If you’re cleared,” James adds.

 

He is. Lance swallows the panic in his throat, terrified of being seen for the impostor he is. “I don’t -”

 

“Please?”

 

And that’s how Lance finds himself sneaking out on the evening on his second day back in the Garrison. It’s - familiar, in a good way, knowing that there’s actually people who’ll care if he does dumb shit, unlike back in the Castle of Lions, where he can roam for hours and not run into another soul. Lance won’t admit it, but he kind of likes having the rules back hanging over his head. There's a distinct lack of those up in space, even under Shiro’s honorable leadership - he’d let them have free reign of the place, trusting them to do the right thing. And more often than not the right thing had meant surviving until the next disaster through any means necessary, whether it's a quintent or a mere varga after. The Garrison is stifling, and Lance is excited to toe that line once more.

 

Still, in the honor of pretending; “This sounds like a bad idea,” Lance tells James as they tiptoe to avoid any of the guards.

 

James only smirks as he punches in a code into the hangar. “Isn’t this how you guys ended up in Voltron in the first place? Sneaking around?”

 

“Yeah, maybe - but, whoa, who told you that?” Lance claps a hand to his mouth, uncomfortably aware of how high pitched his voice is.

 

“Shiro did,” James says, shrugging. “Veronica asked him everything about you - and Voltron - while you guys were out of commission. I guess she needed some reassurance that time.” Lance keeps quiet. They’d been unconscious for weeks - his parents had cried nonstop, he’d been told, and there had been concern if they would ever wake up. Lance is just glad he didn’t have to live through it. It can only be cruel, to keep making his parents live with the idea of his death, only after they’ve seen him alive again.  

 

He shakes his head. It’s over. No matter how many nightmares plague him at night, Lance will wake up at home. _Safe and warm._

 

The door finally slides open, and they slip inside. James grabs a helmet and tosses it to Lance.

 

The dread comes creeping back. James is well-trained; he’s always been up the scoreboards, way higher than Lance has ever been. And unlike Keith, he’s never had an attitude problem, so instructors had no problem parading him as an example.

 

He’s probably going to wipe the floor with Lance.

 

James glances over him. “Let’s go,” he says, beckoning to the sim. It’s so unlike Keith. If it were him, he would have taunted Lance by now. There’s no anger for him to cover up in bluster.

 

James inputs something on the terminal. “All right,” he says. “An obstacle course. First one to complete the track wins.” He grins; the only hint of Keith Lance can trace on his face. “Show me what you got, Lance.”

 

Lance puts on his helmet and gets inside the simulation cockpit. It’s nothing like being in a Lion - for a second Lance panics, confused by the foreign panel in front of him. He’d never had to worry - his Lion reacts instantly to his thoughts; like Lance is piloting with his _brain_. Now as he grips the control stick, he recalls all the instructions drilled into him during the training.

 

The room flashes red. An electronic voice in his helmet indicates the start of the simulation. _Go,_ Lance thinks, _go go go_

 

He’s moving without really knowing it, the simulation taking him up in the air, the endless dessert spread out in front of him. It knocks the wind out of Lance’s lungs, even if it isn’t real. He’s missed this. He’d thought - two weeks of being stuck in a bed, his legs practically falling asleep from bedrest - that he’d never fly again; he’d throw in the towel, give it up for good. A fantasy - whether a dream or a nightmare, he can’t tell. Lance can still take his shots; maybe he’d take up being part of the bridge in Atlas, stay a little closer to his sister and his family down on Earth.

 

But this - _this._ The ship sighs under his hands, flying smoothly, and his blood sings.

 

It takes Lance a while to get everything under control. James is zooming ahead of him, but Lance can still see him. _Not for long,_ he thinks, mechanical and strangely calm, and he presses forward.

 

He’s dodging rock formations, going low and then speeding back up, and he hears James’ gasps before he recognizes it as a nearly impossible move; _for this ship maybe, never for a Voltron Lion_ , but he doesn’t crash, only slides past a mountainous crevice, putting himself toe-to-toe with James again.

 

Lance laughs, suddenly delighted. “Come on!” He says, momentarily stopping his ship to grin at James’ own, before bursting forth again. He’s halfway through when enemy ships - Galra? - materialize out of nowhere, forcing him to swerve to avoid collision. His ships rocks violently, and Lance slams back onto his chair, gritting his head.

 

“You programmed enemies?” Lance yells, and the only response is James’ chuckles.

 

“Thought we could make it more exciting!” James says, as he takes down the two in front of their path. Lance rolls his eyes, smiling despite himself, and finds the blasters on his own ship.

 

Some part of him takes over, sure and steady. Lance breezes through the enemy ships without even glancing, knowing he’s not going to miss his mark. _Sharpshooter,_ he chants in his head, strangely echoing Shiro’s voice, his own favorite comfort. Lance may not be good at many things, but this he can do with his eyes closed. (Uncle Mario had dared him, the summer before he’d gone to Garrison, and he’d hit every single bullseye in the firing range.)

 

He’s careening past the mountains when one more ship appearing right in front of him, larger than the others. His firepower is nothing compared to a Voltron Lion; Lance can’t take this down by himself. He dives past it, a slow arc as lasers rain down on him, emerging on the left flank in pursuit of his steady retreat when -

 

Lance jerks forward as the simulation comes to an abrupt end, plunged to sudden darkness before his helmet clears, leaving him back in the Garrison cockpit. He’d been so engrossed he’d forgotten, leaving him to stare at the stretch of control panels before him.

 

He doesn’t even hear James climbing up to his side, flinching when James jostles him by the shoulder, looking up wildly to a grinning face.

 

“Can’t believe you were just tricking me with all that modesty,” he says. “Dude.” The way he says it is earnest, almost reverent. Lance pauses, breathing heavily.

 

“I always thought - ” he nearly bites his tongue. _That I wasn’t good enough. That without the Lion, I was nothing._

 

Turns out he did pick something up in his time out in space.

 

James is still smiling at him. Lance takes off his helmet slowly, still in mild disbelief. Together they stumble out of the sim, James’ arm looped over his shoulders.

 

“You have to show me how you did that,” James is saying, mimicking Lance’s earlier motions with his hands. “That was -”

 

“Keith’s,” Lance says, before he can stop himself, before his brain can catch up with his mouth.

 

James stops. “What?”

 

“It’s Keith’s move,” Lance admits, a little embarrassed. He’d seen Keith pull that trick dozens of times and has never imagined himself capable of it, even with Red underneath his hands.

 

“Huh,” James says. His cheer seems dampened somewhat.

 

“He’s always been the best pilot out there,” Lance says. “I mean, we all knew that, back here in the Garrison; his flight scores are a legend. He’s even better now, when I think about it. You know even aliens think he’s amazing? There was this guy - ”

 

James is staring at him. “So it’s Keith, huh.”

 

Lance trails off. “What?”

 

James shrugs. “You know. I guess Hunk would have known better,” he mutters.

 

Lance pauses. Then he remembers who’d Hunk had suggested when they’d all been talking at the party last week, and all the blood rushes up his head. “ _No,_ ” he says, almost empathically. “No no no - you have got it wrong. Keith and I-” just the thought of it makes him feel like combusting, “there was - _is -_  nothing between us. Ever.”

 

“But you like him,” James says immediately, and in the face of the fact Lance can’t utter a sound to deny. Yes, he likes Keith. But he also likes Allura, and Shiro, and Pidge, and heck, even Hunk, Lance has been half in love with all his teammates their entire time in space, and he’d have given his heart to any of them if they had indicated even feeling a tenth of how Lance felt back. “I mean especially,” he adds, almost kind in his tone.

 

Shame sticks painfully in Lance’s throat, jamming his voice. That he can’t deny either, when he’d literally gone chasing Keith and ended them up in the whole mess in space. He’s never been good at resisting his impulses, and there’s a part of him that’s wild to go where Keith goes, especially when he’s being yelled at not to follow. He’s the moth gravitating towards the heat of the lamp, undaunted of how he’ll burn up and die. He’s been mad about Keith even before he knew it or understood it; a fact he’d only made sense of when Keith had left them to join the Blade of Marmora, and even now Lance can’t risk saying it. Because -

 

“I mean, I’ve been there,” James says abruptly.

 

Lance’s head snaps up. “ _What?_ ”

 

“You know, the whole crushing on Keith thing? Honestly,” James chuckles, “we might as well start a club.”

 

It’s a revelation. “You mean there’s more people out there who like him?” Lance’s voice cracks.

 

“Lance, you’ve seen him fly, right?” James rolls his eyes. “He’s almost better than Shiro. And you’re right, he may be better than him now. It’s very,” he clenches his fist, “attractive. Unfortunately.”

 

It’s like every thought that’s ever crossed Lance’s mind is spilling out of James’ mouth. No wonder Hunk likes Romelle so much.

 

“Fuck,” Lance says, feeling slightly wobbly. It’s the combination of the adrenaline and unwanted confessions and sheer, sheer relief, that he’s not the only one in the universe who’s stupid about Keith. _Of course_ people like Keith. It isn’t particularly hard, no matter what Hunk and Pidge say.

 

He wishes for a nearby wall to brace himself against. Unfortunately, they’re talking in the middle of the hangar and unless Lance wants to collapse on the ground, he needs to get a hold of himself.

 

James, thankfully, takes him by the arm. He’s smirking now, which is _annoying._ And also reminds him of Keith. Which is beside the point.

 

What actually is the point is escaping Lance at the moment, but his head feels fuzzy and his stomach feels like all his insides have been rearranged. He needs to get a grip.

 

“So?” Lance asks, once he’s sure his knees aren’t going to give out on him. “How’d you get over it?”

 

“Well, first off, I thought he was dead,” James scoffs.

 

“It didn’t stop Keith with Shiro,” Lance mutters in an undertone.

 

“Well, Keith has always operated in a different wavelength,” James says, matter-of-fact. “It’s - part of the charm, I guess. He’s unreachable. No one’s good enough for him, except the best.” His laugh is hollow. “Guess that’s Takashi Shirogane for you.”

 

Lance can’t argue with that. He’d been expecting it, anyway. Things have changed since they got the right Shiro back, and he’s resigned himself to it ever since they’ve landed back on Earth. Isn’t that why he’s mostly given up?

 

Besides, he’s always known those two have a special kind of bond. He’s hoped it isn’t romantic, but he doesn’t really put much stock on his hopes. After all, look at all his pining after Allura. He’s never been good at putting his eggs in the right baskets.

 

“And - you know. It’s time. And space. Not literal space, I guess,” James adds, smirking.

 

“He left us for like, two years,” Lance points out. He doesn’t mention how pivotal those two years of absence were to his own feelings.

 

“Yeah, but he was always going to come back,” James says. “He’s part of your team. You guys are unshakeable.”

 

Lance doesn’t answer that one. He’d thought, at some point, that they were going to crumble to dust, Voltron bedamned. How could he be so sure in a team when they kept falling apart after each disaster? Shiro disappearing, Keith leaving, Allura falling in love with the enemy - there’s only so much heartbreak Lance can take.

 

“Either way, it’s done,” James says, with an exaggerated shrug. Lance opens his mouth to point out that all the dramatic glaring and heated glances between them are now, in retrospect, more meaningful than he’d thought, but the thing is, James isn’t Keith. Lance _can_ keep his mouth shut around him. In fact, he’s been left speechless more often than not when they’re together. A feat that Lance should probably congratulate him on.

 

Instead he says, “Good for you.”

 

“What about you?” If there’s one thing James and Keith have in common, it’s the intensity of their stare.

 

Lance squirms uncomfortably. “What about me?”

 

“You weren’t exactly _dating_ in space,” James points out.

 

“That is - it's not my fault,” Lance splutters. “Look, I wasn’t kidding about the life-and-death situations, you know! And every time I liked someone they’d try to kill me, or steal my lion, or -” _totally not notice._ Or maybe Keith had just been letting him down easy, like Allura. Everyone in the Castle is probably an expert now in sidestepping his feelings, out of respect and friendship. Lance doesn’t know which is worse, being rejected or being pitied.

 

James rolls his eyes. “Fine. But that’s over now, isn’t it? So why aren’t you dating _now_?”

 

“Well, who I am suppose to date?” Lance snaps.

 

James gestures around in the visibly empty room. “Anyone. You’re a war hero. You’re a pilot of Voltron! Take your pick!”

 

 _The ones I want aren’t available_ , Lance doesn’t say.

 

James’ eyes soften. “That’s rough, buddy.”

 

This is the worst heart-to-heart Lance has had, even counting that one time he had barged into Keith’s room for emotional support. As if Keith could be counted on that kind of thing. James is slightly better, but he’s clearly surpassed Lance’s own problems while he’s still stuck.

 

“Whatever,” Lance says. “Let’s - okay, I’m clearly doomed to unrequited love. This was my lot in life when I became the comic relief in the group.”

 

“Does anyone ever tell you you’re unnecessarily hard on yourself?”

 

Lance laughs dryly. “Surprisingly, no.” People always say he takes it too easy. James frowns at this, but Lance has had his insides strung out long enough for another person to see. “I’m tired,” he says. “Let’s ditch this joint.”

 

The walk back to their rooms is horribly quiet. Lance is refusing to look anywhere else but the impeccably white floors, but he can sense James glancing at him every now and then. What’s worse is Lance knows their rooms are on different floors, but James follows him all the way to his own.

 

“Right,” he says awkwardly once he reaches the door to his room. “Thanks for today. I had fun.”

 

James’ quirks up his lip. “Did you really?” he says, just a touch sarcastic.

 

“I did!” Lance says, folding his arms. It’s not quite as masochistic as joining Keith in his training sessions, at least. “And - I’ll get over it. Eventually,” he adds, a little softer. He’d seen Keith and Shiro talking yesterday, heads bent close together, and his heart had done a sad twist. It’s almost as bad as Allura falling in love with Lotor, except for the fact that Shiro’s a good guy, and he’s the best person Lance can imagine for Keith. So he’ll be happy for them.

 

“Yeah?” James looks slightly disbelieving.

 

“Yeah,” Lance confirms. “Hey, who knows. I might end up dating someone here on Earth, anyway. Maybe aliens just weren’t for me.”

 

James almost laughs. “Maybe.”

 

He shifts his weight on his other foot. “Maybe you could try me,” he says abruptly, and Lance is widening his eyes because. What. _What?_

 

“We got nothing to lose, right? And you won’t have to worry about messing up,” James continues.

 

“What - I’m not worried about messing up!” Lance protests.

 

“So the reason why you haven’t gone after anyone in Team Voltron seriously isn’t because you were worried it would affect the team morale if it all went to hell?”

 

Lance shuts his mouth so fast he feels his jaw click. Goddamn, the whole reading him too well is freaking him out. Is James connected to his brain or something? He’s never had his thoughts reflected to him like this.

 

James is grinning at him now. “See? But with me, there’s no stakes involved. So there’s no strings attached.” It’s an annoying expression. Lance wants to wipe it off his face.

 

“You’re mad,” Lance says.

 

“No,” James says, affecting a reasonable tone. “I’m being strategic.”

 

Lance stares at him, and then at the hallways around them. And then - “Oh my god,” Lance says faintly, remembering last week, when James had given him that soda can. “You were asking me _out_.”

 

A strangled laugh makes its way out of James’ throat. “Yes,” he admits. “I was wondering when you would cotton on.”

 

“Well, excuse me!” For some reason, every time someone flirts with him it gets Lance in trouble, to the point that he’s associated any overt affectionate gesture with warning bells.

 

James only shakes his head good-naturedly. “Come on. It’ll be fun.” He makes a meaningful glance at Lance’s door, and Lance feels his whole face go scarlet.

 

“I -”

 

“I promise, I’ll show you a good time,” James says, and very confidently presses him against the wall. Lance gulps. The weight and heat isn’t entirely unwelcome, and it isn’t as if James is unattractive - the Garrison probably puts _could do part-time modeling_ in their requirements for fighter class pilots.

 

And he’d gone through all of Lance’s reservations - or at least the major ones, so now Lance can’t think of any proper objections.

 

James doesn’t give him much more time to. His lips are hovering over Lance’s own, his breath warm and inviting, and suddenly it’s like Lance is back on the sim, his body moving on autopilot as he tilts his head upwards.

 

It’s - there’s no fireworks, no magic. But holy shit, James is pretty good with his tongue, and obviously he’s been getting some action here on Earth while Lance had been constantly cockblocked from aliens on his every move and _fucckkk_

 

“You like that?” James says, his voice pitched low as he nibbles on Lance’s ear. God, Lance isn’t a teenager anymore, and he’s not going to come in his pants just because a boy can kiss like a pro.

 

“Room,” he gasp, before they do something stupid out on the hallways and get caught, God forbid, by the CCTVs. He grabs him by the wrist, blindly punching in his code and stumbling backwards as the door slides to let them in.

 

James doesn’t stop kissing him, one arm snaked around Lance’s waist as they navigate in the darkness - as neither of them could be bothered to fumble for the lights. Thankfully, Garrison barracks are laughably small, even compared to his room in the Castle of Lions, and it doesn’t take long for his knees to hit the bed frame, prompting a loud hiss. At this point James takes the opportunity to haul him by the hips and toss him on the bed.

 

And - Lance isn’t going to lie - that is intensely _hot_. He stares, open-mouthed, as James tugs off his belt and toes off his boots, before pulling off his shirt in one smooth motion. The wolf whistle that comes out of his mouth is mostly involuntarily at this point.

 

“Like what you see?” James is smirking, and it’s unnerving - for a second, Lance’s brain betrays himself, thinking _Keith Keith Keith_ in a terrible cruel moment - but then he’s back on top of Lance, one hand threading through Lance’s hair before forming a loose fist as he tugs. “Hey,” he says, the same tone he’d used when he’d caught Lance moping in his parents’ living room, and Lance lets out a breath. It’s so uniquely James, and he’s almost proud that they had that moment all to themselves.

 

“Hey,” he replies, moving to chase the kiss and landing somewhere near James’ jaw. It’s a challenge in itself; James holds him at a distance despite their hips being slotted together perfectly. Lance finds himself smiling as he struggles in James’ grip, not feeling any guilt as he thrusts his hips up in an attempt to take control.

 

James groans, his cock stiff against Lance’s thigh. “Not fair,” he says, his hand slipping off Lance’s hair and down to his nape instead.

 

“You should learn to play dirty,” Lance tells him - and if there’s one thing he’s good at, it’s been ignoring the rules. He’s never been good enough for those, anyway, so it’s always been up to him to circumvent that.

 

James’ eyes are fever bright even in the dark, almost glittery with an emotion Lance is hesitant to describe as desire. He’s never had anyone look at him like this before, not even in his fantasies. It’s a little overwhelming.

 

So he hides it by crashing their lips together again, swallowing any lingering fear he has left. This is admittedly new, but the makeout session isn’t firing any synapses in his brain. If anything Lance almost feels safe; he lets James help him take off his shirt before lunging for another kiss, and they’re nearly fall off the bed from the intensity.

 

James maps his body with something nearing reverence, relentless in his pursuit of whatever makes Lance arch his body. At one point he actually shouts when James laves over his nipple, bunching his fist on James’ hair. “Stop,” he pants, suddenly desperate. “You’re - it’s too much.”

 

James flicks out his tongue, looking undeterred. “We’ve barely gotten started,” he says, almost petulant.

 

Lance frowns at him. “I already told you, I’m not exactly at your level.” But he’ll get there. Lance is nothing but determined to catch up.

 

James raises an eyebrow. “You had a couple of years out there. Even if it wasn’t with your teammates, you must have at least done some stuff.”

 

Oh, he wishes. “There was really nothing happening in space,” Lance pouts.

 

“Not even sexual experimentation?”

 

“We could die every minute, man,” Lance protests. “Sometimes we’d even get attacked in our _sleep._ ” He shudders, remembering that creepy dream where they’d nearly been stuck in a game show forever. “It wasn’t the most conducive place for sexual energy.”

 

“Sounds sad,” James says, and then he does his thing with his teeth instead and damn, Lance is biting back whimpers as he thrashes wildly.

 

“You probably got more than I did,” Lance says, breathing hard. It’s always been wild out in Garrison - Lance had appreciated that, the close quarters, the no parent figures, except for super strict military personnel that tend not to give a fuck about their vague curfew rules. “God - fuck! Slow down,” he pleads, mildly incoherent. The stirring in his groin is pulsing too much for him to ignore. He’s been feeling James’ hardness for what feels like hours, an illicit promise of what’s to come. Lance doesn’t want to ruin it.

 

In response James gets up on his knees, rather unsteadily, and moves to unbuckle his pants. Lance clumsily sets out to help him, his fingers catching on the waistband as he pulls it down. His mouth waters as he catches sight of his cock, feeling helpless with excitement. The rush to get naked is sudden, clouding most of Lance’s senses. Thankfully, James helps him out with his own afterwards, lifting his hips and dragging the fabric down to his ankles. He nearly cries - _finally, finally_ \- at the feeling of skin to skin, unable to stop himself from thrusting forward. James puts a light hand on his chest, a ghost of a laugh dancing on his mouth. “I thought you wanted to slow down?”

 

“I changed my mind,” Lance moans. “Now, please, I want - ” he’s babbling, desperate, even when he doesn’t particularly know what he wants.

 

“What do you want?” James counters, his tone teasing, still demonstrating that excellent mind-reading skill of his.

 

“You,” Lance manages. “Anything, anything you want, I want,” he pauses, unable to catch his breath at every movement, his load threatening to blow with each passing second.

 

James sucks in his breath. “I want to fuck you,” he admits, almost shy as he hooks Lance’s legs up. Lance swears he felt his heart clench at that. He’s not adverse to it; in fact his first thought at glimpsing James’ cock had been the thought of how good it would feel in him; the most he’s ever had up his ass are dildos, and this, this is the real thing. He almost quivers from anticipation at the idea.

 

“Yes,” he sobs, nodding. “Yes - let’s - _yes._ ”

 

James’ eyes are wide. “Are - yeah? You sure?” He’s pressed between Lance’s legs, their cocks lined up perfectly against each other, the heat trapped so strongly between them that he feels like he’s going to burst. Lance nods again, eyes rolling back with each snap of James’ hips. It’s going to be fantastic, he’s so sure of it, he’s so ready -

 

Then he jolts up. “Wait, wait,” he whispers frantically, “I don’t have condoms.”

 

“ _What?_ ” James actually stops moving, and Lance nearly whines from the loss of contact.

 

“I wasn’t exactly expecting to have wild Garrison sex any time soon!” Lance says defensively.

 

James stares at him, and then sighs. “Should have done this in own room,” he mutters, and Lance flushes even redder. “Oh well. We can leave it for next time.”

 

“Next time?”

 

James pauses. “Unless - you don’t want a next time?” The hint of uncertainty betrays something horribly familiar to Lance, and it’s with sudden clarity that he realizes that if James can more or less read his thoughts, then it’s likely because their thought patterns are the same.

 

“Hell yeah I want a next time,” he says, reaching out for James’ face with his hands. He keeps their foreheads pressed until the worry bleeds out of his expression. Then, “Give a guy a proper warning next time, Griffin.”

 

James gives him a small smile “All right,” he says, sounding relieved. “Guess we’ll settle for something else tonight, McClain.”

 

He takes both their cocks in one hand, with quick, strong strokes, and it doesn’t really take much for Lance to come, his hands scrambling for purchase. Now he understands why people refer to it as a religious experience. He’s touched himself enough times to get himself off, but none of them has ever come close enough to this.

 

Later, he notes the red marks all over James’ shoulders, and Lance thinks, wildly, wondrously, _I did that_. He’s both intensely exhausted and exhilarated at the same time, like at the end of a rollercoaster drop. He wants nothing else but to do it again. He glances up at James, who seems just as out of breath as he is. He pulls his hand away from their soft cocks, grimacing at the mess. Lance pulls himself up to grab a handful of tissues, shoving it in James’ direction, who takes them gratefully. Afterwards, he flops beside Lance, a tight fit in the bed.

 

The silence stretches on, and Lance decides to end it before it makes things awkward.

 

“So,” he says, in his most casual tone. “You must have had a lot of time in your hands in the past few years.”

 

James shrugs. “Not really. The MFE pilot training was pretty rigorous.”

 

“Oh.” Lance wants to ask - then how many guys has he done that with, who else is out there having mind blowing sex? Did he learn it from someone here or has it all been from the Internet? Somehow his mouth won’t move. James shifts, seemingly to straighten up.

 

“You should - rest here a bit,” Lance says, wishing they had showers in their own rooms for once. God, he really should have done this back in the Castle of Lions. He can’t imagine the schematics of having sex in Garrison without running into someone one way or another.

 

“Yeah?”

 

Lance nods, and he burrows a little closer to James, not minding the heat.

 

“All right.” James gives him one last kiss, a little nibble on his lower lip making it decidedly less than chaste before he relaxes once again.

 

Lance tilts his head towards him, distracted at the fluttering of James’ eyelashes. There’s none of the usual signs of his crushes - that helpless panic, the instantaneous desire to do something ridiculous - when it comes to James. Still, he thinks as yawns, all things considered, this isn’t the worst thing he can get to.

 

He falls asleep feeling lighter than he ever has in years.

 

\--

 

Veronica is frowning. “He’s not in any of the choices, Lance,” her sister says, disapproval dripping from her tone.

 

“Too bad!” James grins, hooking an arm around Lance. “Guess I should have bet on myself, huh?”

 

Lance shrugs. “Sorry, sis,” he says, decidedly not apologetic even as he sneaks a small smile at James’ direction. “Looks like none of you are winners today.”

 

 _Except me_ , he resolutely doesn’t say. And for once, maybe all that really matters now is Lance’s happiness.

 

And he’s perfectly fine with that.

 

\--


End file.
